Am I Strong Enough?
by A.V.A.OCTOBER
Summary: As a new student on full scholarship, and with a bad past, Inari is determined to do whatever it takes to prove herself to Lord Death. On her first day she meet King Mitchels, a mysterious yet rambunctious weapon, also wanting to prove himself to whoever is willing to watch. Inari finds herself interested in his soul, but he's interested in her heart. Contains two OCs.


**A/N: So, my ex boyfriend and I started writing this together before he was my ex (obviously). What I'm trying to say is it may already be on this site. Anywho, I took on all Inari Chapters, and he did all the King chapters. I was editor for all. **

_Inari_

"Do to your abilities," The professor began, dully. His voice seemed naturally monotone, but I could tell by the sparkle in his grey eyes and the slight feel of his soul that he thrived on insanity. He was standing in the middle of two small groups of teenagers, one hand in the pocket of his stitched up lab coat, and one balancing an open book effortlessly. "Inari Uzumaki," he hesitated, his eyes trailing across the group I stood in. "You will be paired with Maka Albarn."

I stepped into the center of our half hearted circle, and gazed out over the opposing group, attempting to hide my surprise. Maka Albarn was a name anyone in their right mind would recognize. "Maka the Hero", "Maka, the meister who single handedly defeated the Kishin, Asura.", "Maka – possibly stronger than Lord Death himself". Her heroic tale tells of mass bravery. Even with her weapon and friends unconscious, she continued to fight, instilling some sort of fear in Asura's heart – destroying him from the inside out. I was absolutely surprised that it would be me, of all people, shadowing _Maka Albarn_.

I had always pictured her as a brute – a total badass whose mere appearance would instill fear into the hearts of _us_, the new students. I was stunned to see a thin figure step out of the crowd. She was medium height, skinny with lame looking arms and legs. Her thin blonde hair was swept back in two, small pig tails, and her bangs fell perfectly around her eyes. The most noticeable thing was her friendly smile.

"I'm Maka," She said, raising her gloved hand.

I shook it, noticing how firm her grasp was. "Inari. Nice to meet you." The flatness of my voice was forced. It was hard to contain my surprise as the strength of her soul crashed into me like a merciless tidal wave. I had now possessed a strong understanding of how she beat the Kishin. She had a stubborn soul – a soul meant to lead. It was powerful, but kind-hearted with a will to constantly improve, but most of all, fearless – No, courageous.

Over her shoulder, I saw a boy about her age approach. I could tell by the way he smiled that he was used to the attention of his classmates. His back was slightly hunched, and his hands were shoved into his pockets coolly – the way I saw the popular kids do when I was younger. His hair was as white as the falling snow, messy – held in place by a white and red headband. A patch with the word, 'Soul' was stitched on alongside some sort of symbol.

"Hey," He said and smirked, "I'm – "

"Soul," The professor's voice was stern. "Would you please head back to your group, you will also have a student shadowing you."

Soul sighed. "Damn, Maka. Why'd you have to drag me into this?" He murmured, but turned and waved over his shoulder before she could respond. "I guess I'll see `ya around."

"Speaking of which," the professor continued. "Your student has yet to show up."

The pairs stood apart from the groups, some even left, but Maka and I remained close. I wanted to scout out my potential weapons. "That's professor Stein," She said after a moment. "He teaches the Death Weapon class."

"What's that?" I asked, glancing from the professor to her.

"It's like meister/weapon 101. He teaches us martial arts, fighting strategies and how to amplify your soul wavelength without a weapon." She hesitated. "You do know what that is, right?"

"A soul wavelength? Yeah." She sighed in relief. There was a brief hiatus. "You've got a strong soul." I said finally, looking back at Stein.

Maka was quiet for a moment. "So you can see them too." It wasn't a question.

I nodded stiffly. "I'm nowhere near as good at it as you, though. From what you just told me, you can actually _see_ them, I'm not that great," I blushed. "I have to actually make contact with the person to _understand_."

"Stein can do it too." She said.

Another hiatus. "So," I started and motioned back to the group where Soul was mingling with an energetic blue haired boy. "Is that your weapon?"

"Soul?" Maka followed my gaze and smiled again. "Yes. He can be a little… Difficult at times, but once you get to know him, you'll see he's a good person." I nodded. "You're a scythe meister, correct?" Maka asked suddenly.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"When we signed up for this they gave us the applicant's files."

So she must know that I was here on a scholarship. That I was poor as dirt. "Oh." I said softly. "Well, are there any scythes?" I looked out over the group again, my eyes re-lighting with excitement.

Just as she was about to answer, a glimpse of red caught our attention. The boy moved slowly, as if time itself revolved around him. There was a sort of sway to the walk that made him appear almost drunk. His aura was alluring. Seductive almost. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.

"Ah, King Mitchells," Professor Stein began. "You're late."

I saw a devious smirk pull on his pale lips. "It would appear I am." His voice was deep – contradicting with his slim body. A white rectangular pin was clipped to his grey sweater. The sleeves were shredded at the hems, revealing the red and white striped shirt underneath.

"Class starts at 7: 30, now that you know, I would expect you to be here every day at that exact time."

As he neared, I could make out the words on the pin. Instinctively, I glanced down at my own. The light weight on my chest – the chill of the metal on my skin – they were constant reminders of where I was, and who I was, and my new beginning – my chance to forget the past, and start anew.

In bold, black letters, his pin read, "Weapon". Perhaps later I could "accidently" bump into him – feel how well his soul matched my own.


End file.
